


Loose Lips at Midnight

by orphan_account



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Homestuck
Genre: DnD Erisol AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 02:31:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5147009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When you look at thomebody in the middle of the day, and thuddenly everything clickth intwo plathe and you think: '...Oh my God, they're a perthon. <i>I'm</i> a perthon.' Do you ever wonder.. how well-off they are? What they worry about? Do you wonder what it'd be like if you ended up like them, or them you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loose Lips at Midnight

"You ever wonder how other people live their liveth?"

It's one of the usual campfire questions, an air of both dreariness and humor to it at the same time. Sollux had previously been staring into the calmly flickering flames before him, though now he turned just a bit to give Eridan a glance out of the corner of his eye, cheek resting in a bare palm, his gloves and scarf tossed aside somewhere in their tent. It was cold, but there was something about the extra clothing that sort of bothered him, and he trusted Eridan enough to not lose it over only a sliver of exposed skin. They were alone out here. Hopefully.

Before his companion could reply, he continued in a mumble, looking back and absentmindedly plucking a stick from the ground, giving it a slow wave before poking it into the flames, lacking anything better to do. "When you look at thomebody in the middle of the day, and thuddenly everything clickth intwo plathe and you think: '...Oh my God, they're a perthon. _I'm_ a perthon.' Do you ever wonder.. how well-off they are? What they worry about? Do you wonder what it'd be like if you ended up like them, or them you?"

Some awfully philosophical prompts for so late at night, though the half-elf didn't even blink an eye at the absurdities coming from his own mouth. Eridan on the other hand was having trouble coming up with a reply, shoulders squared and jaw tense as he glared into the distance where shadows danced only slightly, a vaguely soothing series of movement.

"...I mean, I suppose I have. At some point." Came his answer, blinking once before his attention was shifted to the ground in front of him, golds and browns and muddy blacks, the smell of nature, of grass and smoke almost suffocating. "Why?"

Silence, then, besides the crackling of wood from their source of warmth and nocturnal creatures stirring to life in the backdrop, distant croons and cries that had Eridan shivering and Sollux numb. Eventually the smaller shifted and gave a sigh, even such a miniscule action moving a good majority of his frame. He shrugged, not because he didn't know, but because he was guilty, the evidence etched into the features of his face as he refused to meet brown and blue with violet. He didn't want to admit anything to anyone. He didn't want to admit something like that to Eridan of all the people, actually. He was already such a burden, and he didn't need to go bogging down the other's mind any more. So, with a troubled noise and the start of a long session of tapping his fingers on his thigh, he put on a smile and said "Nevermind."

This, as expected, didn't sit well with the elf beside him, though even with a sudden lancing pain in his chest and a burning, gnawing need to prod and poke Sollux raw for answers, he kept to himself. He liked to believe he was learning his limits, even when they concerned such sad, sad things. Things that seemed to be horribly common with the poor creature he shared his life with. It was unfair, and he wanted to fix it.

Ignoring him would do nothing, yet he could practically feel the buzzing of emotion in the air, deciding that he should at least try to see where comforting Sollux would get him. Starting out slow by inching closer and closer to his partner, he reached a point where he could ghost his hand by a bony hip, around his back and then to the other side, settling against him despite the way he could practically hear every muscle in the thief's body tensing. He silently counted to himself, only reaching "three" before Sollux began to relax again, maybe even moreso than a moment ago, allowing himself a slight smile that looked otherwordly thanks to the harsh amber light, simply pleased that his favorite brat hadn't dipped too deep into his ichorous self-loathing.

His ministrations only continued from there, growing more affectionate and comforting and _real_ as the minutes ticked by, neither of them exchanging a word, focused entirely on each other even without passing stares. Sollux found himself held against a warm side, and then he was being nudged to pull himself into Eridan's lap, which he gladly accepted the offer of, mind foggy with exhaustion, clouded with trust. He didn't know why he was still so scared that Eridan could turn on him at any moment, still terrified that this was an extremely elaborate plan to ruin him, but for now, he couldn't be bothered to unravel that whole mess. He only wanted to keep letting Eridan do the work, keep being guided so that they could both relax, so he could forget all the dumb things he'd spewed today, and it came rather easily with the help of the elf holding him.

A hand was rooted in his hair, fingers slipping up from the nape of his neck, then nails skritching his scalp and coaxing out another quiet sigh, melting entirely against a broad chest as they sat, tucked up with each other in front of the fire in the dead of night, ears twitching pleasantly between the slow, precise petting and the tranquil atmosphere around them. He hadn't been fishing for this, no, but he didn't mind it one bit, soaking in the shivers that came when he felt soft lips planted on the top of his head, a nose nuzzling into spastic locks.

At some point in his daze, he remembered noticing that his breathing had synced with the other's, and when he pressed an ear to the soft fabric of Eridan's shirt, he fell in love with the rhythm of his heart, refusing to move even when the back-and-forth of the hand in his hair began to slow, letting heavy eyelids droop shut and the crackling of fire and a steady, reassuring drum lull him to sleep, drifting off with inaudible words being mouthed against him and the feeling of being lifted, weightless, then nothing.

That night, he dreamed of warm colors and words he refused to say.


End file.
